


Taking Steps And Loosing Ground.

by Precious_Little_Stardust



Category: Death Note
Genre: Child Abuse (mentioned), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, I have to give him that, L is one hell of a confused teen tbh, Past Abuse (mentioned), Wammy's Era, a pile of wammy's kids laying around on the floor is confusing, protective!Roger, protective!Watari, thank god for his deductive skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 08:42:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5916163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Precious_Little_Stardust/pseuds/Precious_Little_Stardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"People die every day; everyone will, eventually. Some just die a little bit more interestingly than others do – giving him the needed excitement to distract his mind from boredom and depression.<br/>But taking away his sanity in their wake."</p><p>Or the one in which Watari and L visit Wammy's House for the first time in years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Steps And Loosing Ground.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this came from, to be honest. I was planning on writing a lot about the Wammy's Era but I just ... I couldn't bring myself to do it for real for a long time, actually.  
> I apologize for the dark turn this one took - it came basically out of nowhere. I'm just never satisfied enough with light story telling. 
> 
> The italic lyrics are from the song The Stand by Monty Are I.

_I lost my design._  
Cave away my freedom, I resigned.  
Covered up my face from the sunshine.  
What a crime.

 

Waiting for Watari to open his door, he sighed quietly.  
It was almost three o’clock in the morning.  
He’d had to put up with annoying police officers and profilers during his flight from Denver back to London Heathrow – ‘ _exhausted_ ’ didn’t even begin to cover the lack of energy he experienced at this point.  
His hands were starting to vibrate again, making it obvious for everyone that could catch a glimpse of those long, thin digits that the amount of caffeine consumed couldn’t possibly be healthy. The grip around his laptop bag intensified slightly.

It had been a long three weeks but he had enjoyed ever second of this case, leaving him kind of empty after having solved the mystery in just four short days. The rest of the time they had stayed in Colorado had been purely for Watari’s sake, since the man had wanted to enjoy the beautiful landscape a little bit longer, to try some local specialties and, of course, not to mention the sightseeing and mountain climbing. The old man had even tried to convince L to join him on one of his hiking tours – yeah, right.

Totally did not happen.

He blinked away the memory of the heated argument about his health that had followed his polite decline, slipping on the shoes he had taken off for the three-hour car ride instead.  
Having have had a fight with his caretaker didn’t make this stay uncomfortable, though. He knew Watari loved him fully – and he supposed that he himself loved the old man like a father in return. The concept of love seemed unsatisfying to him, though, not explainable enough. He simply couldn’t tell after all this time of shutting emotional components out – loved him more than any of his inventions. And he knew that his health was a big concern in the whole picture – the only one, maybe.  
Love was a big word, a big emotion. He knew that he empathized with criminals on a daily basis – making their crimes _his_. His design, his own creation.

He never told Watari his secret, never would tell him about the way he solved all those murders. Seemingly cold and pragmatic on the outside but using empathy to catch those who broke the law, that was his _design_.

Most of the time he felt like a spectator, watching an artist create a new painting – but instead of standing there and just observing he would begin to fade into this artist, become one without losing touch. Without letting the brush stop.

He did not feel complete until he got to this point of the case, did not feel whole until it was _his_. Until he begun _to love_ his new creation. Until he begun to love _himself._  
Every case would break some part inside, some part of his mind shattering loudly.  
Food tasted like dust these days, sleep seemed to make it worse. But he did not want to stop, did not want the constant thrill to end. The stimulation of excitement and adrenalin when he found another interesting puzzle to solve, another interesting murderer to find.  
Watari had told him once that it wasn’t appropriate to get excited about dead bodies but L hadn’t been able to understand – still did not to this day to be honest. People died every day; everyone would, eventually. Some just died a little bit more interesting than others did – giving him the needed excitement to distract his mind from boredom and depression. But taking away his sanity in their wake.

Blinking again, he looked outside, taking in the castle that was the orphanage he had grown up in. The only place on earth that would take a child like him in without a second thought, without questions.  
He knew Wammy had his file locked up somewhere. Psychological treatment, his medical documents, maybe even his birth certificate.  
His stomach turned at the thought of going in. He hadn’t realized how nervous he had been until … just now, as he basically couldn’t turn back anyway.

After 3 weeks of staying in the United States – and after about three years of traveling the world –, he had felt like _coming “home”_.  
Obviously, he didn’t mind traveling as much; just the constant waiting was, what put him off. And the fact that he had to interact with people while traveling – not just police all over the world. Even talking to Watari could get difficult.  
He hadn’t slept in about 8 days and he couldn’t suppress the physical exhaustion that took a toll on him every time they moved to another country. This time it seemed worse, though.  
Probably because his sub consciousness remembered the screaming children who would be sharing a house with him soon enough, whereas his consciousness stayed remarkably silent on the matter.

The Greatest Detective on earth, falling for something as humanly and mundane as sleep was still making him feel uncomfortable. Inefficient. Unworthy of his power.

As soon as Wammy opened the door, he jumped right out and took off up the stairs, after thanking his caretaker for the ride. He didn’t bother with the luggage, just grabbing his laptop bag harder. He wanted to get rid of this emotional and physical exhaustion as soon as possible, almost running through the door of the orphanage he once would’ve called _home_ but refused to call it that anymore. This might have been the place of his upbringing, given him comfort and security, food and warmth. But it wasn’t his place anymore. It didn’t belong to him anymore, wasn’t part of his life.  
He didn’t care about living here, didn’t care about living anywhere in the world. As long as he had a place to stay and Watari around, he would be fine.  
No need to make this place a special one.

He noticed Roger coming down the big staircase to greet the both of them, and came to a graceful halt, falling in on himself again in facing his defeat.  
There went his early exit.

Roger had been the reason why he had tried to rush to his room. He really … really di not want to with Wammy’s best friend – the man who took care of the orphanage while the famous inventor was absent, traveling the world with an almost nineteen year old boy.  
Quillsh closed the door behind himself quietly and looked over at his protégée with a silent worry.

L noticed the concerned stare. He didn’t know what to do, what to say and he really didn’t want to be doing this whole greeting thing right now … They had not seen each other in three years and he knew for a fact that Roger had appreciated it even more than the orphaned detective. He knew Roger couldn’t stand him, knew about the great indifference when it came to L.

He met Wammy’s eyes for a short moment – he could see the concern, the slight fear of what L would do next.

Standing in the middle of the front hall looking more like the lost little boy he had been than the powerful force he’d become – for starters, yeah.

Coming home didn’t seem like such a comfortable thing anymore, not at all like a brilliant idea. He had thought it would make Wammy happier, seeing Roger and the children, his other little creations.  
But standing in the front hall alone brought back memories he had tried to forget, tried so hard to not let in.  
Just … too much had happened here. Too much he didn’t want to remember.

As his view traveled to the floor, taking in the thick maroon carpet with greenish ornaments, he noticed three intertwined bodies at the bottom of the stairs, one being all dressed in white, while another one was clothed in black. The third one wasn’t visible so much at first, given the fact that only reddish hair fell out in between the two other bodies.  
He could barely make out a few strands of whitish and blond hair, to be honest, but of course he knew who those three were.  
He’d seen the pictures of the three most promising children in this orphanage.  
Surely, Roger would send them to their rooms for waiting around in the front hall in the middle of the night? Or had there been a change of rules? It was indeed possible, since L didn’t concern himself with his former home and could’ve missed a simple phone conversation between his caretaker and the director of the orphanage.

“Good morning, Quillsh”, Roger addressed his oldest friend first before he gave L a quiet nod. “Good morning, L. I hope you’ve had a pleasant flight?”  
L looked up and met Roger’s eyes for the first time.  
He didn’t care for small talk or for pleasantries but he knew that both older men enjoyed engaging in those types of conversations. That is why he nodded shortly, even saying “Thank you, yes, Roger. Good morning to you, too.”  
Wammy followed suit, taking the few bags of belongings he could carry up. “Good morning, Roger. We’ve had an agreeable time, thank you. I think we are both beyond exhausted”, he said while looking over at the sleeping children. “But may I ask why those three are sleeping on the staircase and not in their respectable beds?”  
L figured that there hadn’t been a change of rules, then. It was still not allowed to sleep outside of one’s own bed, all right. He figured that they probably desired to see the founder of their home, even going to such lengths as to sacrifice a good night’s rest.

Roger shrugged. “I overheard them planning it for a few weeks now. They were so excited when they found out about you visiting, L, they wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

L looked blankly over at Roger, blinking rather stupidly.  
“Me?”, he asked, suddenly at a loss of what to do now. “Why would someone wait for me and sleep on the stairs? They have never met me before.”  
Stating mere facts didn’t explain the situation at all and quite frankly, he was too exhausted to deal with any of this.

Quillsh chuckled behind him, deep and throaty, even. “They wanted to meet you for a long time, L. They’ve heard the stories and they want to get to know the person they might have to replace in a couple of decades.” That was one optimistic thought right there, Wammy. He wouldn’t survive another _few decades_ and they both knew it.

Still not sure what that even meant, though, he took his thumb up and started to rub it against his lips. “I don’t understand”, he confessed. “But I’m in no state of comprehending anymore information, to be honest. May I concern myself with this matter in the morning? Thank you.”  
He started walking, still puzzled and at a loss of what those children were doing on the stairs, waiting for him. “Excuse me”, he said, rather exhausted and stepped over all three bodies. One of them snored slightly – Matt, if he remembered correctly. The blond one almost would’ve grabbed his ankle while he tried to not step on any of their body parts.

As he was passing Roger, the older man didn’t hesitate in grabbing his arm rather roughly. He heard a quiet hiss from Quillsh, but Roger ignored his friend, tightening his grip even more.  
“Every child in this orphanage adores you, L. Every last one of them. They support you, they cheer when they hear about your success – don’t you dare to ruin their illusion tomorrow. Do not break their hearts with your mechanic words and hands-“ – “Stop it, Roger!”  
L looked at the hand still grabbing his arm. Some part of him felt intimidated – or even scared, maybe … - of what would happen next and said part wanted to run right now. Run for his life and never look back.

 

_He saw his birthmother grabbing his arm rather roughly, too, when they had to run from a burning building, leaving the body of his dead birthfather behind._

 

All he could do was nodding quietly, agreeing to whatever it was that Roger would propose next.

 

_He saw her taking his first stepfathers life in front of a movie premiere audience. She had poisoned him, he collapsed on the podium. His arm was roughly grabbed again, taking him out of the hotel and fleeing the scene._

_“You will not tell anyone!”_

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

 

Roger seemed to take the hint and opened his mouth to begin. But Wammy interrupted, having moved from his previous position and leaving his bags abandoned on the thick carpet.

“Please, let go of L first, Roger. I know you care about all of our children but I want nothing more than their happiness, too. L was one of them, once, if you recall. They’ll love him, no matter what. He is an idol, and they know he is brilliant. They don’t know him personally but they will soon enough. And he will be present. But …”, Wammy trailed off, looking at the fingers gripping the thin arms under a black hoodie.  
His caretaker knew that he would need to tend to the bruise forming on his forearm and L realized that he wasn’t even angry with Roger for touching him like this. It frightened him of course, having suffered abuse for the better part of his short life, but he understood, in one way, that Roger seemed to care deeply for those boys and that it was for their protection only.  
He knew that Wammy would do the same thing if he thought another person posed a possible threat to his protégé’s life.

The warden let go of him and stepped back, giving L space to move up the stairs.  
He looked back at the two from the top. “I’ll be available tomorrow. Please make sure not to bother me until I’ll call you in. Thank you, Watari.”  
He left them behind, taking another staircase up to his quarters.

“Let’s get them back to their rooms. L will sleep for at least 15 hours, I assume”, he heard his caretaker say before he stepped onto the third floor, wandering to the last door that led to his flat.

He still didn’t understand why those three boys would sleep on the bottom of the stairs to meet _him_. He was a monster. Some abomination, creating solemnly for the purpose of finding those that broke the law. He was nothing more than a blood hound.

How could anyone look up to him?

It seemed like a pretty emotional decision and he didn’t know how those three children would deal with what would be coming for them.

 

_Picking up the pieces, I will try.  
To repair this broken soul of mine, (...)._


End file.
